by L. P. Dover
“Hey,” I say as I walk closer.
Hudson greets me with that sexy smile of his. “Hey. Did you miss me?”
“Kind of,” I reply with a laugh. “I found myself talking to an empty room. Didn’t know you left.”
Chuckling, he extends his hand. “Sorry about that. I wanted this to be a surprise.”
I glance around at the lights and at the ocean that glimmers under the moonlight. It’s the perfect setting for …
Eyes wide, I quickly focus back on him. “Hudson. What’s going on?”
Taking both of my hands, he draws me closer. “I’ve thought about this night many times. No matter what I came up with in my mind, there’s only one thing that stuck out at me.”
“What?” I ask breathlessly.
He lifts my hands to his lips and kisses each one. “I knew I had to do it here.” Without another word, he slowly drops down on one knee.
My heart thunders in my chest and I gasp. “Oh, my God.”
Hudson laughs and lets my hands go so he can pull out a small, black box from his pocket. “Hopefully, that’s a good gasp.” I nod quickly and his smile broadens as he holds up the ring. “I love you, Allie. I knew months ago that you were the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.” He lifts the ring out of the box and slowly reaches for my hand, his gray eyes boring into mine. “Allison Wood, would you please make me the happiest man on the earth and …”
My body moves of its own accord and I don’t give him the chance to finish. “Yes,” I answer, flinging my arms around his neck. One minute, I’m standing on my feet and the next, I’m falling on top of him in the sand. Hudson bursts out laughing and turns me over so he’s leaning over me. There’s sand everywhere in my hair and up my dress but I don’t care.
“You didn’t give me a chance to finish?” he teases, dusting sand off my shoulders.
Tears streaming down my cheeks, I cup his face in my hands. I can’t begin to describe how happy I am. “I’m sorry. I got a little carried away. You can ask me again. I don’t mind.” In all honesty, I want to hear him say the words again.
Taking my left hand off his face, he slides the ring down my finger. “Will you marry me, Allie? If you say yes again, I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy. I can’t promise I won’t piss you off, but I can promise that I’ll love you forever.”
He wipes away my tears and kisses me.
“Yes,” I breathe, leaning into his hand. “I would love to be your wife. I would’ve said yes months ago.”
“Then it’s settled. You’re mine forever now.”
“And don’t you forget it,” I reply, kissing him again.
He shakes his head. “Never.”
THE END!
Praise for A Date for the Derby
5 derby hats for this one! These two authors have out done themselves and hooked me in with their words from the start!
—Sharon
I recommend this book to everyone who enjoys a little drama with their sexy goodness.
—Bette Hansen
The Dating Series has been, by far, my favorite reads of the year. I’ve devoured them all and can’t wait until the next one comes out.
—Crystal
I was pulled right into this story. The story has laughs, secrets, second chances, and heartbreak.
—Renee Entress
This is a sweet and sexy story about two star-crossed lovers who get their second chance.
—Kari Hansen
One
Colby
The time has come.
I guide Maximus into the trailer and once he’s secured, I hop into the truck. I use the hem of my shirt to wipe the sweat off my forehead. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slow and turn to my reflection in the side view mirror. I run my hands through my short, dark hair and use my shirt to wipe away the dirt on my cheek. I’m not exactly racing royalty, and I could care less if I am or not, but I’m determined to win either way.
In two weeks, twenty of the finest horses in the world will compete in the most exciting two minutes in sports; the Run for the Roses and the first chance to compete for the Triple Crown, the most elusive prize in all of horse racing. Only thirteen horses have won, and when I look at Maximus Monday, I know he’s the next winner.
It’s shortly after midnight when I pull into Churchill Downs. There are a few other trainers with the same thought as me. Right now, it’s an opportune time to get our horses acclimated and settled because the next fourteen days are going to be crazy. Reporters will barge into the stables where we board our horses, taking their pictures, asking the trainers and jockeys for interviews. Every day from here on out, will be a constant interruption.
As soon as I park my truck, I’m at the back of the trailer, opening it up so I can get to Maximus. Even in the dark, I can see the majestic beauty of his black coat. The moonlight gleams through the windows of the trailer and makes his coat shine. He neighs when he sees me. In return, I rest my head against his soft muzzle. He’s the most beautiful animal I have ever worked with. He’s my pride and joy, and after this racing season is over, I’ll have to move on from him and to another colt. That’s the job of a trainer. However, with Maximus, I don’t want to leave him. It’s the first time I’ve ever really gotten attached. Every trainer bonds with their horse differently. With Maximus and I, it’s like we were meant to cross paths on that snowy February day three years ago.
Trainers and jockeys are born into racing. It’s rare that someone wakes up one day and says, “Oh, I’m going to go train a colt” or “I think I’m going to become a jockey.” We are generational—born and raised on ranches, riding at very early ages. We know everything there is to know about a horse, but more so when you’re tasked with turning one into a champion. For as long as I can remember, my family has worked for Armstrong Acres, one of the winningest horse breeders in all of Kentucky. It only made sense for me to follow in my father, grandfather, and great-grandfather’s footsteps. The Armstrong’s are like a second family to the Hensley’s. We live on their land, and we work for them, we train winners. Working for them was an expectation—to some, a gift—and up until three years ago, they were my employer. That’s when I defied my family and found my own path.
Another rarity, especially in Kentucky, is snow. It had started on a Saturday and much to our surprise, it stuck. The inches turned into feet with no end in sight. By Monday, the weather reports referred to the freak storm as a snowmageddon and warned everyone to stay home. I didn’t listen because I have a truck and sometimes, I think I’m invincible. That Monday, I was out driving, and I came across a young kid in the road, trying to flag down anyone he could. He told me his mare was in labor and that the vet couldn’t get to them, so I ventured over to his stables to see what I could do to help.
While the mare worked through her delivery, I learned she used to be a racehorse, which is another rarity. Fillies don’t normally race because of their size. Colts and geldings are usually a much bigger animal. But this mare, she was a thoroughbred. She had once been a champion. When Maximus was born, I took one look into his eyes and knew he’d be the next Derby winner. I went to Mr. Armstrong the next day, suggested a deal where he would rent Maximus from the owner.
The shady older man went behind my back and tried to buy the horse outright, taking him away from his mother. For the first time in my life, I had lost respect for someone. So, in complete defiance, I went to the Armstrong’s main competitor, the Lucky Seven Ranch owned by Baker Kelly and, on behalf of Maximus’s owner, brokered a deal. I would train Maximus and other horses on the property, for a room, board, and a stipend. In return, we win races. It was a gamble but paid off in dividends.
Going into the Kentucky Derby, Maximus ranks second with one hundred and four points. He trails the horse I would’ve trained at Armstrong’s by sixteen points. None of which will matter when the gates close on the first Saturday of May.
Tugging on the lead rope, I gently pull Maximus out
of the trailer. He follows behind, and playfully taps my shoulder with his muzzle. He wants a treat, which he often gets when we arrive places, also which I left in my truck.
We walk into the stables where the overhead lights are dim and perfect. The last thing any trainer wants is for the horses to get confused with the time. It’s mostly quiet with the low murmur of voices—trainers talking to their horses or other staff. Elijah, the stable manager, and long-time employee greets Maximus and me. He’s been here for as long as I can remember and has always taken care of the horses that live on the property.
“Good to see you,” he says as he leads us to our stall. I pause and look at the plaque with Maximus’s name on it. “You’ve done well.”
“Thanks, Elijah.”
News of my defection and later disownment from my family spread like wildfire. Butch Armstrong did everything he could to blacklist me from ever training another horse. Lord knows I’m thankful for people like Elijah for stepping up and putting a good word in for me with Baker Kelly. I supposed it helped I was coming from his competitor.
“I’m sure you can’t wait to go to the fancy hotel they have you put up in.”
I shake my head slowly as I unhook the lead rope and drape it over my shoulder. “I’m staying with Max.”
“Mr. Colby, surely you know I would never let anything happen to any of the horses here.”
I hate that his mind went straight to violence, but I get it. In every business, when it comes to money and prestige, people are ruthless and will do whatever they can to win.
“Elijah, I have never doubted your ability to keep the horses safe. If I stay here, I can avoid certain people and the media melee.”
Elijah slaps his hand on my shoulder and laughs. “Mr. Colby, you are nothing like your father. It’s refreshing.”
He’s right. My father and I are polar opposites. I care about the horse’s well-being, his readiness for the race. My dad, he loves the limelight, the bragging that comes with having trained a Derby winner before. I was five when he won his first, eleven when he nabbed his second. Since it’s been every three years or so, if it’s not the Derby, it’s the Preakness or the Belmont. I asked him once when winning became a priority. He told me, “You’ll know when the blanket of roses is laid over your horse and jockey.” I’d like to think I won’t be like my dad, but the only way to find out is to win.
“Thanks, Elijah.” I step out of Maximus’s stable, shutting the door tightly, and follow Elijah through the stable. When we come to the entrance, he pauses and points toward the other end. “Your father is down there. I didn’t want him close to you. Just in case.” He looks at me with his vibrant, soulful brown eyes and smiles. He follows me to my truck and helps gather my things, something not on his list of job duties, but out of the goodness of his heart.
“Follow me,” he says when we enter the stable. We head up a flight of stairs and enter the space above the horses. There are stalls, but each one has a door. “Back in the day, the ranch hands used to live up here, but times have changed, and they all have families, or they live in their campers. I don’t show many people this area, at least not anymore.” He walks down the path and comes to the space above Maximus’s stall. He opens the door. Inside, there is a small cot and a nightstand, nothing else. “It’s yours if you want it.”
I smile and pat him on the shoulder. “I want it very much. Thanks, Elijah.”
He nods and leaves me to set up my room. The room has one outlet which I plug my charger into, along with my portable fan. I lay my sleeping bag out on the cot, throw my pillow toward the head of the bed, and pull the book I’ve been reading out of my bag and set it on the nightstand.
After I head back to my truck to get the rest of Maximus’s stuff, I’m in his stall and running a brush over his mane. Each morning, he’ll go out with his exercise rider until it’s time for his jockey, Kendrick Murphy, to take over and work with him. Kendrick is a descendent of Isaac Murphy, who is widely known as the crown prince among African American riders. He won the Derby three times before passing away five years after his last victory. It was my choice to hire Kendrick as Maximus’s rider. Once I saw them together, the grace in which Kendrick rode the colt, everything fell into place. I know history will be made with the first black rider in over a hundred years, but that’s not why Kendrick is here. He’s here because he’s the best.
While Maximus eats, I make sure to fix his stall up for him. Fresh hay, which I brought from his ranch, his turnout sheet in case the air conditioner becomes too much for him, and a stack of treats, which he’ll greedily take from me whether I think he’s earned them or not. I step out of his stall and watch him for a minute. In a few short months, he won’t be mine anymore, and I’ll move onto another horse, one ready to start their competition journey. I’ll take my next couple of horses to competitions to see how they fare. I always do my best to train the next winner.
After the Derby, Maximus, Kendrick, and I will head to Baltimore and prepare for the Preakness, hopefully as the Derby winner. And, if not the winner, a contender, to make sure no one else wins the Triple Crown this year.
Back in the room, I change into a pair of sleep shorts, turn the fan on, and lay on my bed. Daylight will come in just a few hours, which means more training. It also means the start of the Kentucky Derby Festival, and I already have a list of events to attend. None of which I want to be at because running into my parents and the Armstrong’s is not how I want to spend my time. Unfortunately, events are necessary, especially for trainers. If Maximus wins, I’ll be sought after. Owners will come to me with their colts and geldings, paying me to train them. I need to be on top of my social game, no matter how much it pains me.
I reach for my book and flip to my dog-eared page. The novel is about the filly, Winning Colors. She won the Derby in 1988. One of three female horses to ever win. This book was a gift from Brielle Armstrong, daughter of Butch, and the one woman I thought I would marry. I’m not sure why I kept the book or continue to read about the gambling ring and Mexican cartel surrounding Winning Colors, but I do. I read a chapter before getting up and turning off the light. It’s hot, and there isn’t a need for a blanket, so I lay there, in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the horses below me.
Everything will be different when I wake. The stable will busy with trainers arriving, and Brielle is sure to be there, with some sort of media in tow. She is, by all accounts, royalty around here.
Two
Brielle
I don’t know why I’m nervous, but I am. For the next couple of weeks, it’ll be endless parties, nonstop smiles, beautiful hats and gowns, and cameras flashing all around. It’s something I’ve been accustomed to my entire life. My father built his famous empire by winning. Our horses have always been the best. When I was younger, I used to revel in the attention. Now that I’m older, it’s not the same. There are times when I wish things were different.
Tonight, my family is hosting the first ever Armstrong gala. We’ve been a part of the derby events for years, but this time, my father wanted to make a statement. He left me in charge of planning it, and it wasn’t an easy task. It has to be the biggest and best event of the season. Every reporter covering the derby will be downstairs. I didn’t hold back at all. My father told me to go all out and I did. Even all the celebrities attending the derby have accepted their invitation to come.
“Why are you frowning? That’s not allowed right now.”
William’s voice catches me off guard. I was so lost in my thoughts I didn’t hear him enter the room. It feels strange being in my old bedroom again. With all the party planning and making sure everything is perfect, I haven’t been able to leave. My dad has enjoyed having me at the main house the past couple of days, especially since it’s our first big event without my mother. All I know is that I’m exhausted already and there are still numerous events to attend before the derby.
I look over at William and smile. I’ve only known him for a year, but he
’s the closest friend I have. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been in short supply of friends, especially with who my family is, but I’ve come to the realization that most of them aren’t genuine. They always want something from me. It didn’t bother me when I was younger, but now that I’m in my thirties, my outlook on life has changed.
“I’m not frowning,” I say, taking the garment bag from him. Inside is one of the many dresses he’s designed for me. I can’t wait to see it. “I’m thinking. There’s a lot riding on this party tonight. My father wants it to be the best.”
William snorts and sits down on the beige Victorian-style chaise at the foot of my bed. The man is dressed impeccably in his black tux with his sandy blond hair combed perfectly to the side. We’re the same age and I always tell him he looks like a young Leonardo DiCaprio. His golden hazel eyes stare mischievously at me. “If it’s not, then there’s a problem. There are people everywhere downstairs. I even saw that one singer from the Backstreet Boys. Totally hot if you ask me.” He winks. “You’ll have to make some introductions.”
He says it, but I can still see the pain in his eyes. He’s still heartbroken from his breakup with Andres. “I’ll introduce you to everyone I know,” I promise him. There are some men I know who would be perfect for him.
When I met William in New York, it was at one of the poshest restaurants in the city while I attended Fashion Week. Little did I know that when I sat down at the bar to order a drink that I’d be sitting next to one of the famous up and coming designers. I loved William’s designs. We hit it off right from the beginning and he introduced me to his boyfriend who owned the restaurant. Now that they aren’t together anymore, he decided to take me up on my offer and stay in Kentucky for a while to design a new line of clothes, all geared toward the derby style. I have no doubt all the ladies will be lining up to get their own dresses made after they see the ones he designed for me.